Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far WestDrannan, William F.
History
Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far West
Drannan, William F.
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- Wars
Taking a circuitous route we drove the horses around between the
scene of battle and head-quarters. When about a mile distant my
first assistant and myself returned to the battle ground leaving
the other scouts to guard the horses. We arrived at the scene just
in time to see the last Indian fall. When it was good light the
Indians could be seen lying around in every direction. The orderly
sergeant and two privates were looking around in the sagebrush,
thinking there might be some of them hiding there, and all of a
sudden two young bucks started up and began to run, and for about
three hundred yards they had what I thought to be the prettiest
race I had ever witnessed. The two Indians on foot and the
soldiers on horseback, running through the sagebrush and every man
in the crowd, from the Captain down, yelling at the top of his
voice. Here I did the poorest shooting that I had ever done in my
life, emptying one of my revolvers and not touching an Indian. But
the soldiers finally got them.
We counted the dead braves and found them to be forty-eight in
number.
In this engagement Capt. Mills did not lose a man, and only one
was wounded. This was the result of making the attack so early in
the morning. Had it been later, after the Indians were all up,
they would have made a harder fight.
The battle being over we all started for headquarters, feeling
jubilant over the victory.
We reached headquarters at ten o'clock in the morning, after which
Capt. Mills told us we had done enough for one day, and that all
could take it easy for the rest of the day. The next morning I
struck out east on the emigrant trail, sending one man north and
one south of the trail, each taking three days' rations, our
object being to meet emigrants, if there were any, and guard them
through to Capt. Mills' quarters, as it was now time for the
emigrants to come stringing along; a time that heretofore among
the Indians had been considered a harvest in this section of the
country.
The first day in the afternoon I rode to a high hill, took my
glasses, and looking east I saw a train of emigrants stringing
along. This was the first train of the season. The scout from the
north and also the one from the south had got sight of them, and
were pulling for the trail. We pushed on and met the train just as
it was pulling into camp. I called for the captain and he came
forth. I told him we were scouts for Capt. Mills, and were out for
the purpose of protecting emigrants. The captain, as well as the
people in the train, were very much pleased to know that they were
going to have protection after that through the hostile country.
They had been troubled more or less by Indians all the way through
Utah, having a great deal of stock, both horses and cattle, stolen
by the Indians, as they supposed, but among men who were better
informed it was the supposition that they were stolen by white
men, for in those days there was a set of white men in Utah much
worse than Indians.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account